


Just Another Night Of Us

by nothing_rhymes_with_ianto



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Grantaire Ship Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-11
Updated: 2013-11-11
Packaged: 2018-01-01 05:13:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1040756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothing_rhymes_with_ianto/pseuds/nothing_rhymes_with_ianto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eponine and Grantaire in the evening after a shitty day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Another Night Of Us

The door flies open with a bang and a few thumps as Eponine drops all of her stuff on the ground in front of it, before slamming it closed and stumbling into the living room. Grantaire raises his eyebrows at her from the floor where he's playing GTA, an empty bowl of ramen beside him. Eponine's center of gravity shifts, tilts, and she flops face-down across the couch, feet dangling over the arm. Grantaire pauses his game and scoots closer.

"Long day?" He shifts up onto his knees and gently unclips her hair from its messy bun, running his fingers through the dark locks and scratching blunt nails against her scalp. She hums softly, then groans.

"Understatement of the year," Wriggling into a more secure position, she pries her shoes off with the opposite foot, keeping her head still so as not to dislodge Grantaire's hand. "On top of piece of shit customers wanking about their coffee and idiots fucking up their bank accounts, Marius has apparently fallen in love with a girl and wouldn't shut up about it. And yes, I'm over him, thank you. But it was me he was pestering, and only me, and I was trying to work. And my father came into the bank, off his ass, and proceeded to yell at me about fuck knows what. Thank whatever that banks have a thing called security."

"Damn." He runs a hand down her back before he nudges her shoulder with the flat of his palm. "Well, you go change back into a normal human being and I'll get us some medicine and turn on Dark Crystal or something."

They curl up together on the couch with a bottle of Maker's Mark between them, drinking straight from the bottle. Eponine's changed into a pair of Felix the Cat boxer shorts and a ratty purple Hard Rock Cafe t-shirt that's been torn to shreds. She lies on her side with her head pillowed in Grantaire's lap as they start the movie.

"So how was your day, then?" Eponine murmurs into his thigh. They've seen the movie often enough that they don't really need or want to watch it.

"Shitty, but not as shitty as yours. And anyway, it's to be expected."

"Oh, really?"

"Well, I mean, as usual it's amazing that I even managed to get out of bed today, but that's beside the point. I couldn't paint. No inspiration today. Fuck all's going on in the creativity department. I'm not surprised, considering how goddamn little of anything I've done in the past few weeks. Oh, and Bossuet broke his goddamn ankle while we were putting in a window. I don't know why the man works in minor construction."

"He's got worse luck than you!"

"No, his bad luck is different. He constantly gets injured or loses important things or steps in a mud puddle that's eight inches deeper than expected. I get fired or kicked out of my flat or lose all my money gambling because I'm too drunk to back out. So, you know, basically all our lives are as properly fucked up and miserable as usual."

She flicks his knee and he punches her in the leg. "Ow! Fuck you. You should shut the hell up and drink some whiskey."

He does as she commands. She steals the bottle from him mid-swallow, grinning wolfishly with all her teeth at him before tipping it to her lips. They pass the bottle back and forth for a while, actually watching the movie. Grantaire taps her forehead with two fingers.

"Tomorrow's Saturday."

A twist of lips, an eyebrow raise, one manicured hand coming up to wrap around his wrist. "Yeah, and?"

Grantaire rolls his eyes. "And I was going to go on an UrbEx hike or something in the afternoon if I felt alive enough when I woke up. Want to come?"

"Sure, why not. It's not like you'd get very far without me. Fuck knows I'm better at picking locks than you. Hey!"

Her reaction time is slowed, and she flails helplessly at the shove, limbs circling chaotically. She lands on the floor in a heap, but still has a grip on Grantaire's wrist, and with a yank, she pulls him down with her.

"I win."

He grunts. "Fuck you, you were on the floor first."

"Whatever."

Eponine winds her arms around Grantaire's neck, tangling their legs together and squeezing, hanging on as he tries to haul himself up off the floor.

"Eponine," he whines. "The movie's over and I'm too drunk to get up with you like this. Let me up!"

"Nope. You're comfy, and I'm drunk too. The TV can stay on, I'm staying right here."

Grantaire flops back down and presses his cheek to hers. "I hate you."

"No, you don't. You love me."

"I do?"

"Yeah, you do."

"Fuck you. Fine." He pulls away so they're nose to nose, almost too close so that they're practically cross-eyed as they look at each other. "Is the whiskey all gone?"

"Yeah."

"Hm. Well, whatever. C'mere."

They meet in the middle, eyes already closed, lips coming together with practiced ease. The kiss isn't delicate or sweet, it's sloppy and drunk and definitely not the best they've had together, but they don't care. Their chapped lips catch against each other and their noses bump as they shift, but it's familiar and comfortable as their tongues battle for dominance and their hands run across each other. Eponine pulls away to move to Grantaire's neck, biting at his jaw and complaining in a half-intelligible mumble about beard burn. She sucks a mark into his neck before soothing it with a kiss, and he bares his throat for her with a growl, except the bite she bestows just above his adam's apple suddenly softens, and the kiss that follows is slow, and then she slumps down with her head on his shoulder, asleep. He kisses the smooth skin beside her eye and wraps his arms around her, feeling the pull of sleep himself. 

In the morning they go to the cafe and run into the rest of the group, and Grantaire grins proudly, cutting his eyes at her as Eponine smirks when Bossuet loudly asks who's been marking him up. When Grantaire tells him it was a evil monster, she puts her foot on top of his under the table, grinding jher heel down, and he sticks out his tongue.


End file.
